


What Was Salvaged From The Sea

by lilies_in_a_vase



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Have a Good Relationship, Billy Hargrove Has Powers, Billy Hargrove Has a Manbun, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy’s not dead, But they thought he was, Canon Compliant, Ehh... Well, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Friendship, Experimentation, F/M, Gen, Good Sibling Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Good Significant Other Lucas Sinclair, Hopper didn’t disappear but the rest is canon compliant until the first chapter, How Do I Tag, Human Experimentation, Hurt Billy Hargrove, Hurt/Comfort, I will add tags as I go along, Maxine "Max" Mayfield Needs a Hug, Mystery, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, POV Billy Hargrove, POV Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Past Child Abuse, Protective Maxine "Max" Mayfield, i think, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilies_in_a_vase/pseuds/lilies_in_a_vase
Summary: It’s October 1988, and Max is in Indianapolis with Lucas visiting his grandma. She steps into a coffee shop, and finds herself staring at her brother.Her brother, who died three years ago.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 42
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is just an excuse for me to write how Max dealt with Billy’s death without actually killing him + making a longer attempt at Billy With Powers. Also, attempting to write chapters that are a normal length. We’ll see how well I do! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> There are references to past child abuse, because Neil’s an asshole, as well as racism, because Neil’s a racist asshole.  
> There is also a description of Billy’s funeral, although it’s mentioned in passing. If you want to skip that particular part, then it starts at “Max thinks back to the funeral service” and goes on for a total of 7 paragraphs. 
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> I don’t own “Stranger Things”.

Max feels like she’s going to faint. 

No, wait, that isn’t exactly right. That’s what people usually say they feel like, in stories, when they’re faced with something like this. 

Max feels nauseous. Perhaps a little like she’s finally snapped and completely lost it. She feels a little angry, very confused, a bit like she’s going to start laughing maniacally and then break down sobbing. 

But mostly? Max feels relief. 

Because Billy’s standing in front of her. Billy, who Max thought was dead. Billy, who was declared dead three years ago, whose funeral Max went to, who Max has been missing for three years. 

For a second, she thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her. It wouldn’t be the first time Max has seen someone and thought it was Billy, but the thing is, those times they had something that reminded her of Billy at seventeen. A blonde mullet, curly blonde locks, a jean jacket, a half open shirt, a cigarette, bruises. 

The man at the counter does not have anything like that. He has blonde hair, curly and long, but it’s actually long all over and pulled up into a bun, and he has sunglasses on, even though it’s October, and raining, and Max can see part of a scar high on a cheekbone and disappearing behind the lenses. He takes his cup from the barista with his left hand, which would clue her in that this isn’t who she hopes it is, if it weren’t for the fact that when he turns Max can see that there is no right hand emerging from the other sleeve of his black sweater. 

The funeral was closed casket, but Max is certain Neil would have said something if Billy wasn’t about to be buried...  whole. And she always found that strange, because Max saw him, saw all the injuries all over him, hugged his body as he bled out in her arms, and Max knew they tried to save him, and it never made sense to her that they wouldn’t have had to amputate something. 

And so Max knows, knows with absolute certainty, that this man is Billy, because he doesn’t look like asshole teen Billy with his anger and abusive asshole of a dad. This man looks like what she could actually imagine a Billy who survived the Mindflayer, and survived Neil, might look like. 

And that just leaves the question of  _ why the fuck haven’t you contacted me you complete and utter asshole? _ Max doesn’t know what to think. 

Actually, Max doesn’t think at all. Max watches him go sit down and grabs her bag, and her coffee cup, and stands up. She walks over to the little table he’s found for himself in the corner, secluded and private, and pulls out the chair to sit down.

Billy, for it must be Billy, looks up at her over the brim of his glasses, and Max sees they’re only slightly tinted. 

“Can I help you?” 

It  _is_ Billy. The words aren’t ones Billy would use, no, but it is his voice. He’s quiet, but Max has zeroed in on it to the point where all the other noises of the busy coffee shop fade into the background. She’s in Indianapolis for the weekend with Lucas. They’re staying at his grandma’s place, just a couple of blocks away from where she is now. 

“Where have you been?” Max decides to get right to it, no beating around the bush. 

Billy leans back at that. She can see him swallowing, like he’s nervous, but when he speaks his voice is completely pleasant. The hand around his mug clenches. It’s hot chocolate, Max notes. Billy always loved hot chocolate. “I’m sorry? I... I have no idea who you are.” 

Max huffs, feels a smirk pulling at her lips. “Very funny.” 

“I’m serious. What’s your name? I-” He reaches out with his left hand, as though he wants to shake hers. Max doesn’t take it. She’s starting to get afraid. He pulls it back around his cup. “My name’s William,” he says, with a little halfhearted shrug. 

“You’re  _ name _ is Billy.” 

_ Something’s wrong.  _

He frowns. “Nobody calls me that.” 

Max leans forward. The edge of the table is pressing into her belly. “ _Everybody _ calls you that. The only one who ever called you ‘William’ was your mother.” 

That seems to catch his interest. He tilts his head to the side and looks at her with such an open, searching expression Max almost feels like crying. He reminds her of El, suddenly.

“Do you know where my mother is?” 

Max thinks back to the funeral service, to the beautiful curly haired blonde woman who showed up, who marched straight up to Neil before it started and screamed and shouted and slapped his cheek. Who screamed at him that he’d taken her son, her  _ child_, away from her. Max found out a lot, listening to that shouting match. It turns out that part of the reason why they’d moved to Hawkins was because Billy’s mum had been trying to reach him, trying to get custody over him. That Neil had moved and changed phone numbers and put Billy in a different school after their divorce. 

Neil had wanted to bury Billy in Hawkins. Max knows he would’ve hated that. And so did Billy’s mum, apparently. She’d argued until they agreed to cremate him, and when she first laid eyes on the casket she’d fallen to her knees with a wail. It had echoed what Max felt in her own heart, through stronger, heavier. Darker. The sound a mother lets out when she sees her dead child. Susan had crouched down and held her.

Billy’s mum had held the urn with his ashes with trembling hands. Max had gone up to her before she could drive away, had hugged her and asked if she could touch the urn. Had asked her where she was taking her brother. 

To the ocean. _‘To the California ocean’_ , she’d whispered in Max’ ear. _‘To become one with the waves he used to love.’_ He grew up in the sea, it was only right for him to rest there in death. 

And Max had cried, and asked her for her phone number. Asked if she could call her, in a few days. Ask how it went. And Billy’s mum had stroked Max’ hair, and written it down on a piece of paper. Had told her she seemed like an amazing girl. That she was glad Billy had her. Max had only cried harder.

A couple days later, she’d called the phone number, and an old woman had answered. Had sounded incredibly sad, and Max had felt like her heart had dropped to the pit of her belly. The woman told her that Billy’s mum had crashed her car, on her way home. That she’d had an empty urn in her passenger seat. That she’d died, two days ago. 

Max had cried, again. She doesn’t think she’s ever spent so many days crying. Not even when she was a baby, and that was all she did. 

But it feels wrong to tell Billy all of that, now. So instead, she says: “Billy, I’m your  _ sister_. Stepsister.”

Billy shakes his head. He’s starting to look a little panicked. “No... No, they told me I was alone.” 

Max frowns, wonders if this is a clue as to where he’s been the past three years. “Who told you that you were alone?”

Billy doesn’t answer, instead he raises his head and looks out over the coffee shop. Max realises that from his vantage point, with his back against the wall at a corner table, he can easily survey the whole room. He’ll see anyone who comes in before they see him. He glances back at her, sharply. “ _ Are you with them? _ ” he growls, the way he would when they were younger and he was trying to intimidate her. 

Max has been through too much for Billy to scare her anymore, though. She wrinkles her brows, leans back and holds up her hands, palms up. “Who are  _ ‘they_?” 

Billy pulls his chair back. The metal scrapes against the floor. “I can’t stay here.” He rounds the table and sets for the door.

Max stands up and follows after him. “Billy! Billy, wait!” 

The bell above the door jingles as he steps out. 

Max is, at most, outside three seconds later. And yet he’s nowhere to be seen. Max gasps, looks around frantically and feels her throat start to close up. There are tears trailing down her cheeks, mixing with the rain. “Billy?” she says. “ _ Billy! _ ” 

A few people turn to look at her, but no Billy emerges from the busy Indianapolis streets. 

“What the fuck?” Max mutters. She’s started walking back towards Lucas’ grandma’s place without any conscious decision. She scans the crowd, but can’t find him. “What- What the fuck?”

For a second, she’s worried she’d imagined him. But no one had looked at her like she’d been insane, like she was a crazy seventeen year old girl talking to thin air. And Max refuses to even consider that she’d daydreamed up the whole scenario. So Billy must have been there. Billy must be  _ alive_. And then he’d left her again. 

She’s so angry, and so sad, and afraid, and so,  so relieved.  _ He’s alive.  _

Lucas’ grandma opens the door. She immediately looks worried. 

“Max? Did someone- Come on in.” 

Max steps in, sniffles a little.

“Did someone hurt you?” 

She bites her lip, shakes her head. Laughs a little. “I met my brother,” she says. 

Lucas’ grandma frowns a little, not understanding how  _ monumental _ that is. 

“Max?” Lucas’ voice comes from the doorway to the kitchen. He’d stayed behind to help his grandma with cooking dinner, although she’d protested that she didn’t need any help. Max had only left in order to get herself a coffee, because Lucas’ grandma only had tea and Max was craving some caffeine. Lucas had laughed and kissed her before she’d left.

Now, though, now he looks really worried. “I think the potatoes are done, Gran’,” he says absentmindedly, not looking at his grandma. His eyes are fixed on Max. 

“Oh!” Lucas’ grandma says, and wanders past him into the kitchen. Lucas steps out, takes Max’ hand and leads her into the living room, sitting them down on the couch. 

“What do you need?” He asks her, and Max realises that he thinks this is like one of those times in the beginning, during the first year after Billy’s death. _Or, well, ‘death’_ , she thinks, and lets out a giggle. Lucas’ grip on her hand grows tighter. He rubs his thumb over her palm. “Max?” 

Those first few months, Max would see Billy everywhere. Not, not like she’d hallucinate him, exactly. But she’d think she’d seen him, or something would remind her of him, and she’d start crying on the spot. But this isn’t like that. She says as much.

Lucas tilts his head, looks at her sympathetically. “Max...” 

“It isn’t!” Max fights to lower her voice. They don’t need Lucas’ grandma hearing them. “He’s alive,” she says quietly. “I talked to him. He didn’t remember me. Said his name was William.” 

“His name _was_ William,” Lucas mutters quietly beside her. 

Max drags her hand out of his. “Lucas.” 

“Max, we had a funeral. You  _ cremated _ him.” 

“Yeah, well, I never saw the body. Didn’t you tell me they made a fake body of Will? Didn’t you have a funeral for  _ him_ _?_ ” 

Lucas grimaces. “I see your point. But- It’s been three years.” 

“I think someone took him. He kept- He kept talking about  _ ‘them’_, asking if I was with  _‘them’_. ” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“Can you call El? We have to find him. I- I need to get him back.” 

Lucas nods, stands up and goes out into the hallway. Max hears him ask his grandmother about using her phone, and then, a little closer, hears him talk into the receiver.

“El? Max says Billy’s alive. We need your help to find him.” 

He comes back to her less then a minute later. “El’s getting here first thing tomorrow.” 

Max breathes a sigh of relief. Feels herself slowly start to unwind. “Okay.” She looks up at him. “Thank you.” 

Lucas leans down, kisses her. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

—

“I think someone took him, that he’s just now managed to escape,” Max says the next day, around noon, in Hopper and El’s hotel room. Hopper and Joyce moved in together. Got married, two years ago. “He asked if I was with ‘them’. Said they’d told him he was alone.”

El reaches out a hand, puts it on Max’ knee. “He’s not alone.” 

“He doesn’t know that.” 

El frowns. “I’ll find him.” She reaches out, takes the black fabric she’d kept in her lap. She’s sitting on the floor, Max and Lucas on a small sofa in front of her. Hopper’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed. El looks up at her. “Anything I should know?” 

“He looks different now,” Max says. “His right arm’s gone, from the elbow down, I think.”

“Jesus,” Hopper mutters. Max sees him drag a hand across his face. 

“And his hair’s longer. It was in a bun, but like, I think it’d look like... like the singer from Metallica, kind of, if it was down? I don’t know if you know what he-“ 

“I do,” El says. Smiles a little sheepishly. 

And Max remembers how Neil wanted to throw all of Billy’s stuff away, how Max had to secretly rescue some of it. She kept his favourite shirts. Wore them, sometimes. Slept in them in the beginning. Had others hidden in her closet, where Neil never looked and her mum only smiled sadly at her when she found out. Almost the same way she’d looked when she found out about Lucas, that look of understanding and love for her daughter. Combined with the cautiousness, the awareness that Neil could never know. Sometimes Max wonders why her mum’s still married to him. But she’d let her keep Billy’s things, and El had listened to some of his tapes when she’d been over after Max had broken down crying after school again and El had gone home with her. They’d lied on Max’s bed, and had talked about Billy. Had talked shit about Neil. El had held her hand. 

“Is that what that hellish noise you listen to is?” Hopper asks, and El sticks her tongue out to him. He only chuckles. Max would feel too old to do that, but El hasn’t really had a childhood. They’re teenagers now, turning eighteen next year, but El hasn’t ever felt constrained by society’s norms for how she should act for her age. Max supposes there’s freedom in that. 

“He’s got a scar on his cheek, as well,” Max adds, thinking back to yesterday. 

El nods. “Still pretty?” she asks, and both Max and Lucas burst out laughing. Can’t really help it. 

“Don’t let Mike hear you say that,” Lucas says. 

El makes a face. “Ugh. He’s Max’ _brother_.” 

Lucas stifles another laugh. 

El turns to Max, raises her eyebrows. _Well, is he?_

Max laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s still pretty.” 

“Okay,” El says, shrugging. She places the fabric above her eyes, ties it at the back of her head. She’d stopped letting her hair grow longer when the curls started reaching just past her shoulders. 

They sit in silence for at least fifteen minutes, and Max is starting to worry El isn’t going to find him, when she suddenly inhales sharply. Gasps, and lets out a series of whimpers. Her hands fist where they’re resting on jean clad crossed legs. 

Hopper moves from his position against the wall, and crouches down beside her. He looks like he wants to touch her, but doesn’t dare break her concentration. 

“El?” Max asks, her voice shaky. There are tears trailing down El’s cheeks. 

She whips the fabric of her face, breathing harshly, and turns to meet Max’ gaze. When she speaks, her words are barely louder than a whisper. “He’s screaming.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, chapter two! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> A bit of panic attacks, or almost, and people really aren’t nice to Billy. I don’t exactly know how to describe what happens, so if anyone reads this and wants me to write something specific here (or change the rating/add tags) please do let me know! 
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> I don’t own “Stranger Things”. 
> 
> If anyone reading this has also read my fic “Of Monsters and Forgiveness”, you’ll notice my lack of creativity, haha.

They always come for him the same time of day. 

William doesn’t know how long he’s been here for, how much time has passed since he woke up with his whole body screaming in pain, and now. Months, at least. Years, probably. 

Dr. Morrison’s in the doorway. William hates them all, but he does hate Morrison a little less, if only because he is the only one who calls him by his name.  _A_ name, at least. 

The others all call him 85-68. In the beginning, he’d been trying to figure out what it meant. If it was a reference to how many had come before him. Eventually, he’d realised it didn’t really matter. 

He’s been Travelling in his sleep again. He’s getting better at it. Last night, he’d been able to  _ taste _ the hot chocolate. Not just touch the mug, or the chair. The money he’d swiped. It had taken a lot of focus, but it was worth it. 

It was exhilarating. 

Then that girl had showed up. Had called herself his sister. After everything his existence has been, it‘s impossible to believe. They’d told him he was alone, that no one would come looking for him. But maybe, _maybe someone has_.

Or maybe Dr. Morrison and the rest of them have figured out what more he can do, and that’s what this day will entail. Because while William may know when they’ll come for him, he never really knows what they will make him do. What they will do  _to_ him. 

Maybe that girl was sent by them, and they were meaning to see if he’d trust her. If he’d turn his back on them, if he’d run away, if he’d try to figure out how to escape, and then they’d bring him back to his body and punish him for his betrayal. He’s been keyed up for hours, worrying that’s what they’ll do when they come for him in the morning. 

But Dr. Morrison’s expression doesn’t look any different than any other day. He steps into the sterile room, and lets his gaze land on where William sits against the opposite wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

“Good morning, William. Ready to go?” 

He doesn’t know why he asks. Once, they’d come in while he was in the middle of brushing his teeth, and had dragged him out while he still had toothpaste foaming in his mouth. 

His room is small, with metal walls and a heavy door. He’s got a mattress on the floor in one corner, a sink and toilet against the wall, and a small pile of books and novels in Russian. When he first woke up with those horrific injuries, he hadn’t yet been strong enough for them to really explore his abilities. So they’d taught him Russian. It’s useful for them, and William doesn’t mind. He figures he must’ve liked languages and reading before as well.

William pushes himself up and goes to stand in the middle of the room, in lieu of answering. Two men step in around Dr. Morrison, and pull on the black cloth bag William’s become intimately familiar with over his head. 

One grabs his left arm, the other what’s left of his right, and lead him out of the room. 

They never let him see which way they go, although he thinks he might still know his way around a little. He counts his steps, usually. He figures they don’t want him to know what the facility looks like, that they don’t want him to have a chance of figuring out which way to go to get out. 

He’s only seen the outside world when he’s Travelling. At first he’d though he was dreaming, but then they started testing his abilities and he managed to figure what it was he was actually doing. It’s strange, because he can’t remember anything from his life before, doesn’t know what happened to him, but nothing he sees when he Travels shocks him, either. He always ends up at the same place, outside a high school in Indianapolis. Maybe he went to school there, once. Maybe that’s why he keeps waking up there. 

When they pull the bag off, he’s in the Dark Room, as he calls it. There’s a metal table, with two metal chairs, against one of the walls. William knows the procedure by now. He goes to sit in one of them, his back to the door where the men who lead him in stand guard. Dr. Morrison sits down opposite him. 

He’s a thin man, with short curly hair and glasses. From the pocket of his lab coat, he produces a photograph and slides it over to William. It’s of an older man, with a hard face and greying hair. 

“You’re looking for Dr. Olezka Goncharov. He died last month. This is him,” Dr. Morrison says. 

William glances down at it a second time, but there’s not much more information to be gained from the picture. “Height?” 

Dr. Morrison smiles. “Tall.” 

William nods, and slides the picture back. Dr. Morrison takes it, puts it back in his pocket and stands. He claps William’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he says, and William waits until he hears the door close behind them before he moves. 

He sits down on the floor in the middle of the room, crossing his legs and pulling the sleeves of his black sweater down over his hands. The cameras in each corner have a perfect angle of him from all sides. 

They turn the lights off, and he’s submerged in darkness. He takes off his glasses and puts them in his lap. His eyes can’t take bright lights, and there’s always bright lights on in this building.

He hears the water start to flow into the room, and a second later feels his pants grow wet. It’s never a lot of water, just enough that had he been standing, it would have covered his feet entirely. 

William closes his eyes. 

It’s like an instinct, at this point. The conditions they’ve put him in immediately trigger his abilities, and he’s back in the Dark. 

The water splashes around his feet as he walks. There’s whispering around him, from the countless dead. The first few times he’d done this, he’d been overwhelmed by the sheer multitude of them. They’d thrown themselves at him, the only living being in a world of darkness and frigid water. 

He focused on the face of the man he’s looking for, repeating his name in his mind.  _ Dr. Olezka Goncharov, Dr. Olezka Goncharov, Dr. Olezka Goncharov, Dr. Olezka Goncharov... _

He emerges eventually. He is a tall man, the height of someone William thinks he once knew but can’t put a name or face to.

“Good day, Doctor,” William says in Russian, in his head. Aloud, he says, in English: “Found him.” 

Dr. Morrison’s voice comes through the speaker in the room. “Ask him about his research. About the explosion that killed him.” 

Dr. Goncharov hasn’t reacted, although William can see his eyes following him. He’s paying attention. 

“Could you tell me a little about your research?” 

It happens in less than a second. At first, Dr. Goncharov is standing still a few feet away, and then he’s in William’s face, towering over him and squeezing his neck with his clammy hands. 

William gasps, feels his hands fist. He doesn’t know if he can die in here, and it’s a strange feeling to feel like he’s split in two, like he’s got two sets of lungs and one pair can’t get in any oxygen, while the other is making him take gasping breaths. 

“Tell your owners that there is nothing I will ever tell them. Even in death, I am loyal,” Dr. Goncharov hisses. 

William repeats it, his voice no more than a croak, and doesn’t realise he’s said it in Russian until Dr. Morrison admonishes him. “In English, William.” 

“He says he’s loyal to his country and won’t tell you anything.” 

“Well, that’s too bad,” Dr. Morrison’s voice crackles. “Bring him forward.” 

At first, he thinks he must be speaking to someone else, someone watching William in the room with him, but when nothing else happens he realises Dr. Morrison is waiting for him to do something. “What?” he gasps. Dr. Goncharov’s grip grows tighter. 

“I want you to conjure him, William.”

His mind draws a blank. It’s like neither pair of lungs can breathe for a second. “I- I can’t.”

“William.” There’s a warning in his tone, and William feels panic build up in his rush to explain. 

“I mean. You’ve never asked me to- I’ve never-“ 

“I know. I’m asking you now.” His voice is harsh , and William shudders. 

In the Dark, he glances up to stare into Dr. Goncharov’s eyes. He focuses with all his might, and can hear the whispers around them growing louder. The dead are running now, splashing water around themselves.

He can feel blood start to trail down his nose, from both nostrils, the way it always does when he’s using more energy than he has to spare. 

Dr. Goncharov lets go of his neck, and steps away. He’s laughing, the sound so loud it hurts William’s ears. He falls to his knees, the water icy cold and biting. In the Dark Room, he feels himself slump forward. 

Dr. Goncharov starts walking away, and in Russian, William screams for him to stay. He thinks he’s doing it aloud as well, because he barely hears Dr. Morrison’s voice as he speaks. 

“This isn’t working. Bring in Angela.” 

Dr. Morrison may be the one he hates the least, but he is under no illusion that he’s a friend to him. This, if anything, proves it. Because if William hates him the least, then he hates Angela the most out of all of them. 

The floor is slightly tilted, letting the water run back through the holes in the far wall. William barely hears them slide shut from the rushing in his ears. 

He pulls his knees up, and starts scrambling backwards towards the corner farthest from the door. The lights are turned on without warning, and he lets out a cry as he squeezes his eyes shut and feels around for his glasses. 

By the time he gets them back on, the door has opened and the men from earlier are advancing towards him. He tries to curl deeper into the corner, wishes one of his abilities was teleportation or invisibility and he could disappear or melt into the wall. 

“No! Please! Let me try again, let me- I can do it, I can, just let me- Please!” 

But they ignore him, and William no match for the two of them. One pulls him up and holds him still while the other drags the bag over his shaking head. He can feel his hair getting loose from the bun he’d put it in, a couple strands falling down over his shoulder. 

They drag him out, and William doesn’t bother counting the steps towards Angela’s room. 

The men lift him up, force him down on the table and fasten his limbs to it. They start with his left hand, while holding down his legs so he can’t kick them, then move on to fasten his upper right arm, above the stump at his elbow. His legs are last, but by that point he’s already given up. 

The bag is pulled off, and William finds Dr. Morrison looking down at him. William’s glasses have fallen down to the tip of his nose, and the light above him send sharp pangs of pain into his skull. Dr. Morrison rights them. “Be good for Angela, William,” he says with a grimace, and leaves the room. 

William squeezes his eyes shut when he hears the door close, and shuts them tighter when he hears it open again and stilettos tap against the tile floor. There are tears streaming down his face, mixing with the blood from his nose. 

“I wasn’t expecting to have you with me today, 85-68,” Angela says in her silky smooth voice as she rolls the machine closer to him. William gasps, and gulps in air. She strokes his hair, and he flinches. “Aw, I know you don’t like me, 85-68. But I do wonder if there will ever come day when you’re not crying as soon as you hear my name?” He feels the icy press against his inner elbow as she cleans it, and renews his struggles. He knows it’s no use, all of this is routine by now, and yet he can’t help trying to get away from her. Then comes the sting of the needle, and William sobs. Angela strokes his hair again. “Shh. Relax...” Just as she says it, his muscles do so and he melts against the table. 

He opens his eyes and spits in her face as she leans over and attaches the wires to his head. Angela huffs a laugh, and wipes it away. She cleans her hand on his shirt. She pushes at his lips with the thing she always has him bite down on. He’s never figured out what it is. And although he hates complying with any of this, he knows this one thing is at least for his benefit as much as it is for theirs. So he opens his mouth and lets her press it in. 

The first shock is mild, compared to what is to come. And still his eyes go wide and and he feels his whole body seize. 

Angela isn’t slow, isn’t merciful. She moves the dials up immediately, one after another, and soon William’s back is arching, his limbs straining against the straps holding him down. And still she doesn’t slow down, doesn’t  _ stop_, but keeps going higher, higher,  _ higher _ until he can barely hear, and there’s fresh blood trailing down from his nose, and the pain is so bad he has to scream, because it hurts, it hurts so much, it feels like his head is being split open and he needs to escape from the pain because _it hurts god fucking-_

He feels his eyes roll up and a second later he’s standing in the corner of the room, shaking as he watches his body arch on the table. All he can see from his eyes are the whites of them. Angela reaches out and removes his glasses. 

William’s under no illusions that it’s his soul, if such a thing exists. But he thinks they might imagine it is, hoping to connect it with his other ability. He thinks of it more as his consciousness. He’s removed from what’s happening to his body, can’t really feel it, although it’s still affecting him even now. 

They can’t see him, because this isn’t like when he Travels. He isn’t in control now, and he knows that’s what they want. That they’re hoping it’ll trigger something, release some other ability, or some other level to his abilities. It won’t, though, it won’t, it’ll only take him to-

A blink and he’s there. 

William slides down the wall, curling up. Angela’s gone, and the men who took him in, and even his writhing body. He’s alone in here, the table and its restraints abandoned and the machine silent.Everything’s in scales of grey, and there’s dust, like grey snowflakes, floating in the air. Far away, he hears it.

The sound of a voice, older than time, calling out to him. It’s a scream of anger, a growl of hate, and William pulls his right shoulder up so he can press his ear against it, his hand coming up to press against the other. 

—

“What do you mean he’s screaming? El!” 

Hopper reaches out a hand and holds his palm up in the universal sign for ‘stop’. “Max. Calm down.” 

But El shakes her head. “No, no, she- She needs to know. I’m okay,” she adds, when Hopper turns concerned eyes to her. 

And El is Max’ best friend, but Billy is her brother, and right now El is the only one with _any_ _ answers.  _

El stands up, takes Max’ hand and leads her to the bed. They sit down on the edge. 

“I don’t know where he is,” she says. “But he is alive.” This, she addresses to the whole room, and Max releases a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “He was lying down, and his eyes... they were completely white. He was in  _ so much pain_. But- It was like he wasn’t there. Not really. I don’t know how, I don’t- I was  _ so strange_.” 

“So somebody is holding him captured, then?” Max asks, and El shrugs but nods. “Someone’s holding him captured and _torturing_ him. We have to help him!” 

Hopper sighs. He’s taken Max’ seat beside Lucas. “Max... Listen, I know-“

“No! No, you’re not going to tell me that there’s nothing we can do!” 

“There  _ isn’t._” He sounds sorry as he says it, and a bit placating. 

Max is angry, angry at the pitying looks both he and Lucas are sending her, and she hates that she starts crying. She tries to wipe the tears away, but it doesn’t help. “He’s my brother. I can’t just- I can’t just leave him. I can’t just give up on him! If we’d- If  _ I’d _ helped him, three years ago, then this wouldn’t have happened, he’d been safe and at collage or working or something and he- he wouldn’t-“ 

Lucas’s moves quickly, crouches down in front of her and puts a hand on her knee. “Max. Hey. Hey, look at me. Breathe.” 

El squeezes her hand. “Deep breaths,” she whispers. 

Max nods, bites her lip and blinks the tears away. She breathes in deeply, holds it for a seconds and lets go. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Max. What happened to Billy,” Hopper says, standing up. “You tried to hel-“

“ _I didn’t try hard enough!_ ” Max spits. “I could have told him, I could have prepared him better-“ 

“Not with the way your relationship was, no. You have nothing to blame yourself for, kid. You did the best you could.” 

Max sniffles. “I miss him.” 

Hopper’s expression softens, and he nods. “I know. And I’m not saying we do nothing. I’m just saying there’s nothing we can do  _ right now_. You three have school tomorrow, and we have no clue where he could be. We have no clue how he appeared at that coffee shop, or how he disappeared so quickly. But we’re going to figure it out.” 

—

William’s trembling. 

He’d come back to his body just as they were releasing him from the table, but he was too out of it to walk. They’d carried him back to his room, laid him down on the cold metal floor just past the door, and he’d found a sandwich and a new change of pants waiting for him.

He’d changed as soon as he regained enough strength to do so, and had crawled over to the tray, wolfing the sandwich down. He never gets a lot of food. He’s always hungry. And after the last couple of hours, he’s famished. 

He barely gets to the toilet to throw the sandwich up a few minutes later. 

He’s crying when he’s finished, because he doesn’t know if he’ll get more food later. If he’ll be able to keep it down. 

And he’s so cold. 

Every time they force him to that place, he comes back freezing. It’s like his core is frozen solid, and there’s nothing he can do to keep warm. 

He curls up on his mattress, pulling his blanket as close as possible and trying gain back his lost body heat. He’s always a little cold, but only like this after a session with Angela. His head is throbbing,  _ aching_, and his muscles spasm without any permission from him. 

He settles down with his head on his pillow, and wishes they’d turn the lights off. They’re only ever dimmed, never completely turned off, but he wants to sleep now and it’s harder with them glaring down on him.

He does his best to ignore them, and closes his eyes behind his glasses. He’s bone tired, and doubts he’d be able to Travel. It feels more like he’s about to pass out than fall asleep. 

Right before he loses consciousness, he remembers to reach for the padded restraints attached to the floor by his mattress. Shaking, he sits up and fastens his feet in them, and then puts his hand through the loop of the last one. His hand trembles as he does it, and he can’t stop himself from thinking about Angela’s table. But these ones are for his own sake, because without them he’d just keep floating upwards until he hits the ceiling and then he’d crash back down as soon as he woke up. 

They realised pretty quickly that his mind, and thus his body, isn’t certain which plane of existence to stay on as he dreams, so this is a necessity. He still remembers the pain from the bruise he got when he hit his forehead on the ceiling the first time it happened. 

As William lays back down, he thinks of the sweetness of cocoa, and wishes he’ll get to taste it for real one day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t gotten around to replying to your comments on the previous chapter yet, but please know I’ve read them all and they brought a gigantic smile to my face! I hope you guys like this chapter as well, and if you did then please leave kudos or even better, let me know your thoughts in a comment!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, a lots been going on during December-January! I hope you guys like this chapter!

  
“You look like shit,” Mike tells her. It’s Monday, and she’s just pulled up next to his car outside Hawkins High. He must’ve just arrived as well, because he’s leaning against the car his parents got him for his birthday last year, Will and El still in the middle of getting out. 

Mike grew taller, his hair curlier. They’re all taller. Lucas has even started shaving, which Max knows because she’d teased him about his growing beard and moustache and then one day the hairs that would tickle her when she kissed him were gone. 

Mike frowns. “You okay?” 

From the backseat of the Camaro, Dustin lets out a loud sigh. More a huff of exasperated air, if Max’ honest. “Thank you! I didn’t want to say anything, because, like, I didn’t want her to hit me, but-“ 

“I’ve just had trouble sleeping this weekend,” Max says, and as El steps up next to Mike she sees her send her a sympathetic look. 

“Why are you having trouble sleeping?” Dustin asks. “Weren’t you two supposed to go to Indianapolis?” He gestures at her and Lucas, rounding the car from the passenger seat to stand next to Max as she gets out. 

Max glances down at her lap and tries to breath. She’s relieved when Lucas notices, when he answers. 

“Later,” he says, and something in his tone must make the rest of them realise that this isn’t the time, because the conversation changes to that of their science homework. Max breathes a sigh of relief. 

As she gets out, the bell rings, and they hurry into the school. 

—

“Max has something she needs to talk about,” El says, during lunch while they’re sitting at their round corner table in the cafeteria. 

When Max started high school, she’d been desperate to find signs of Billy. The Billy he was when he was away from home, with his friends. As much as Billy had friends. His teammates had come to the funeral, and Tommy and Carol. But no one had cried, no one expect Max and his mother. 

The first time she’d stepped foot into the cafeteria her eyes had immediately searched out the table with the basketball players, the one with the popular kids, because she imagines that must be where Billy’d eaten. Billy was always popular, even in California, from what Max could tell. Although she doesn’t think he’d been King of the mountain as he ended up being in Hawkins. He always had a way of demanding attention, pulling it towards him, even if Max thinks he didn’t always want to have it. It had scared her, sometimes. 

The first time she had to find her way to the school toilets, she’d almost wished she could sneak into the boys’ just to see if she’d recognise Billy’s handwriting on any of the notes always written on stall walls. Even if it would probably just be some lewd remark or stupid joke. She’d be happy with anything. 

But it felt a little too strange to ask one of the guys to look at something Billy’d written before and to try to compare it to the messages scrawled on the walls. 

“Is it the reason you haven’t been sleeping?” Will asks. He sounds knowing, so Max guesses El must have told him something, at least. Or he’d overheard Hopper talking to Joyce when they got back yesterday. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened in Indianapolis, anyway?” Dustin adds. 

“Yeah, I...” she trails off, and has to take a deep breath before she tries speaking again. “Billy’s alive.” 

“He’s _what?_ ” Dustin basically shouts, pushing himself up to standing. Will has to pull him down before they attract even more attention than his exclamation already brought. 

Mike frowns. “Max, are you sure-?”

“Yes! This isn’t like the other times.”

“She’s right,” El says, laying a hand over his. “I saw him. In the Void. He’s alive, but he’s in trouble.” 

“You- What? What were you doing in-?”

“Hop took her,” Will says. 

“ _You_ _knew?_ ”

“Not what happened, but I knew Max needed help. And El seemed worried when she got home.”

“I talked to him,” Max says, because she can feel the conversation straining away from the topic at hand. “In a coffee shop.” 

“Okay, slow down,” Dustin says. “From the beginning, please.”

So Max tells them about seeing Billy in the coffee shop, about the strange conversation they’d had where he didn’t seem to remember her. El fills them in about what she saw in the Void. 

The lunch bell rings before they can talk about it more, but Mike levels them all with a look of determination. “My place, all of us, after school.” Max smiles in relief when all her friends nod, when none of them protest against helping Billy. 

— 

She’s on her way to gym when she finds herself staring at the trophy case. The hallways deserted, Max’ class having ended early and those she’s got gym with from that class having already gone into the changing rooms. 

She’s found herself here many times before. 

Neil never kept any photographs around, and Max never had a reason to take much photos of Billy, so this is one of the only places she can still see his face in. There’s a photograph of Hawkins Basketball Team ‘84/85. And there’s a photograph of Heather Holloway, who’d been a cheerleader and Billy’s coworker at the pool, whom the Mindflayer had made Billy take. And there’s a photograph of Billy, too. They’re side by side, the only students Hawkins High lost. Max has always thought Nancy’s old friend should also have had a place there, but the general consensus for her was that she’d run away. 

Billy’s eyes are the same as they’d been in the coffee shop, behind those tinted glasses.  _ I’m going to find you._

“Max?” 

She jumps at the sound of El’s voice. When she turns to look at her, El gives her a gentle smile, tilting her head to the side. 

“You’re crying,” she says, softly. Max knows she doesn’t need to ask why. She’s found her here more than once. “Come on,” she says, and takes her hand. El leads her away from the case, over to the changing rooms. There’s a few girls already in there, but El pulls her into the bathroom before they have the chance to notice them.

Max goes up to the sink and turns of the faucet, washing her face off and taking the towel El pulls out of her gym bag with a tight smile. 

“He’s alive,” El says. 

“What if we’re too late? What if he-“ 

“He won’t,” she says it with so much conviction Max almost believes her. 

— 

The teacher has them running laps around the gym. It’s fine in the beginning, Max isn’t bad at gym, but then El lets out a shout and falls to the ground. 

She’s a little bit ahead of Max, and when she gets there El’s clutching her head, palms pressing against her ears with her eyes tightly shut. A trickle of blood starts from her nose. 

A small crowd has formed around them, and the teacher has to usher their classmates to the side to be able to kneel next to Max. 

“Jane? Jane, what happened? Can you hear me, Jane?” There’s an edge to the teachers voice, like he’s scared what Hopper will do to him if it turns out his daughter got significantly hurt in his class. 

El doesn’t react at first, but then as quickly as it happened she uncurls, lays down on her back with her chest heaving. She’s staring up at the ceiling, but her hand reaches out in Max’ direction. “Max,” she gasps. 

Max clutches at her hand. 

“Jane?” the teacher starts again. “Jane, you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m-“ she doesn’t finish the sentence, but she does nod, which seems to be enough because he turns to Max next. 

“Take her to the nurse. You’re both dismissed for the rest of class.” 

Gym’s their last class, so it’s more that they’re dismissed for the rest of the day. 

El doesn’t move for a couple more seconds, while the teacher gets their class back on track, but when she sits up, Max stands and helps her up along with her. 

She’s ready to have El put her arm over her shoulders, but it doesn’t seem like she needs it. She’s steady on her legs, her nose the only indication something even happened. 

Still, Max makes sure to carry both their gym bags. 

She waits outside while the nurse checks El. She’s out in less than ten minutes. 

“You okay?”

“I told her I stumbled and hit my nose.”

Max huffs a laugh, but she’s still worried. “Yeah, but really? What happened?” 

El bites her lip. “Can we... go somewhere, before meeting up with the guys?” 

“My mum and Neil should still be at work.” 

El nods her agreement, and they go out to the car park, getting into the Camaro. Max drives them out to Cherry. They don’t speak. The sun’s shining, but the breeze is cold and she feels icky and sweaty, her gym clothes sticking to her skin. She’s going to offer El a shower, after she’s told her what she needs to. 

She parks on the street outside the house, the same spot Billy used to occupy, and unlocks the front door, ushering El in. She’s been here enough times to know her way around, Neil happy Max had a female friend, and with Billy gone Max knew he didn’t have to worry about being accused of child abuse. He’s still strict, still an unpredictable asshole, but he’s never touched Max, and she’s only ever seen her mum with a bruised wrist from being held too harshly, or a red cheek from a slap, a handful of times. 

El goes over to her room, and Max stops by the kitchen to get them a glass of juice each. To get to her own room, she has to go by Billy’s old one. Neil had teared it down, had thrown his furniture into a broken heap outside in fury. Max had come home while he was in the middle of it. It was the first, and the only, time she’d seen him cry. He hadn’t shed a single tear during the funeral. He’s remodelled Billy’s room into a home office. Max hates him for it. 

El’s sitting in the chair by Max’ desk. Max hands her a glass, placing her own on her nightstand before going to sit down on the foot of her bed, her legs crossed. El takes a sip, puts the glass down on her desk, and bounces over to Max. She lands beside her, and takes Max hand in one smooth movement, pulling them down to lie side by side atop the covers. 

“I saw him,” she says. “I think he was _looking for_ _ me_. Or, for  _ you_, and I was the closest he could get to.” 

“Like a beacon. A lighthouse.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Was he- How did he seem? Hurt?”

El doesn’t answer, and Max turns to look at her. She’s staring up at the ceiling. Max sees her swallow. “El? Was he hurt?”

She shakes her head. “No, he- He seemed scared, and, he touched my arm, and it... it...” 

“What, El? _El?_ ”

She turns her head, slowly. Her eyes are so wide. “Max, it felt like he died.” 

It feels like a gut punch. Max has to suck in air, and turns her head to stare up at her ceiling.

Beside her, El turns on her side, pulls herself up so she’s leaning on one elbow. “But he didn’t, Max. He didn’t, he, he stared at me, and I grabbed his wrist and his heart was beating, it was _pounding_ , it was so, so loud, it surrounded us, but then he whipped his head around, like someone was calling for him, and disappeared.” 

“You promise? You promise he’s still alive, El?” 

“He was,” El breathes. “I promise he was, Max.” 

“Okay.” 

El squeezes her hand, and Max closes her eyes. She takes a couple moments to just breathe in silence.

Eventually, El stands up, goes over to Billy’s old radio and digs out one of the albums Max keeps hidden out of immediate eye sight. So Neil doesn’t catch her. It’s one that Billy played when he first drove them to Hawkins, one that Max listened to so many times over the course of the trip she’d eventually fallen a little in love with it herself. El puts it in, not too loud, not like Billy used to. 

“You can shower, if you want,” Max says. “I’ll go after you. And then we should probably get to Mike’s.” 

She doesn’t look up to see if El answers, but she hears the door open and then close, and over the music, she makes out the sound of the shower turning on. 

Alone in her bedroom, Max takes the chance to let a few tears escape. 

—

They end up spread out in the basement of the Wheelers. Will’s by the table with an open notebook, Dustin pacing back and forth, and Mike’d sat with his arms around El on one end of the couch. Max isn’t as openly affectionate with Lucas, but she is sitting next to him on the other end, shoulders pressed together. 

“Okay,” Dustin says. “Let’s go through what we know. First-“

“Billy pulled me into the Void during gym,” El interrupts, and Mike pulls her closer. 

“You okay?” he asks, at the same time as Lucas says “How?” 

“I think he was looking for Max, but he found me, and he looked scared. He held my arm, and it- I could feel what he felt, kind of? It felt like  _ death_, but I could feel his pulse, I could hear his heart. It echoed.” 

“He shouldn’t be supposed to be able to do that, should he? I mean, he wasn’t-“ Mike stops himself, but El sighs. 

“Wasn’t an experiment,” she finishes.

“ _ Wasn’t_,” Max says. “We don’t know what they’ve done to him. He’s been gone for three years.” 

“Okay, so, let’s backtrack,” Dustin says. “What do we know?” 

“Billy can access to Void,” Mike says. 

“Great. More. Will, you writing this down?” 

“Yeah, keep going.” 

“He disappeared when I tried to follow him out of the coffee shop.” 

“He’s being kept somewhere,” El says. “Being... tortured.” 

They all seem to pale a bit when El says that, Dustin’s enthusiasm dying out a little, his shoulders sagging. Max wonders if it’s bringing up old shitty memories for El, of her childhood in the lab. The only sound comes from Will’s pencil against paper. 

“What does he look like?” Will asks, bringing them out of their heads. 

“His right arm’s amputated. And he’s got scars, on his face. He wore tinted glasses.”

“Billy’s wearing glasses?” Mike wrinkles his nose, seems to be having trouble picturing it. “He look as stupid as Steve does with them?” 

“Hey!” Dustin shouts. Max reaches out with her leg and kicks Mike. “Don’t be a shit to Steve, he taught me how to drive!” 

“Guys?” Will says, looking up from his notebook and raising his eyebrows. 

“He’s got hair like James Hetfield,” El says. 

Dustin throws his hands up into the air. “And who the fuck is that?” 

“The singer of Metallica.”

“Oh! Yeah, I know what he looks like,” Will says. 

Dustin clasps his hands together. “Great. Alright, rescue mission, guys. We need a location. Can we agree to assume he’s close to Indianapolis, at least?”

“Yeah, I mean... Why else would he have showed up at the coffee shop?” Mike says. 

“Amazing. Guys, I think it’s time to recruit Wine Mum and Vodka Aunt.” 

—

When Max gets home that evening, having stopped by at the diner with her friends after calling her mum, Neil is in the living room watching a movie with Susan. 

Her mum asks her to join them, but after everything that has happened Max doesn’t think she’d be able to sit through an evening with Neil. She’s polite as she declines, though, worried her mum will end up with a slap for not reaching her manners, teaching her  respect , if she isn’t, and says she’s tired. 

She brushes her teeth, and goes into her room, closing the door behind her. 

She goes over to her wardrobe and digs through her secret stash, hidden in the bottom, in the back. Pulls out one of Billy’s worn shirts and slips it on. Neil never comes into her room after she’s made it clear she’s gone to bed, nor does he do it in the morning before Max has stepped out for the first time, having changed out of pyjamas and pulled on a bra. He gives her that much privacy, at least. Max doesn’t know what he’d do if he’d find out she’d kept some of Billy’s shirts. 

Doesn’t even know if he’d notice, and sometimes that scares her more. 

But she’s glad she’d kept them, especially now, now when she’s going to be able to give them back to him. 

Max flips the lights off, and goes to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I care that Wine Mum and Vodka Aunt probably weren’t expressions used back then? No, no I do not. I thought it was funny. 
> 
> I would love it if you’d take the time to comment and tell me what you guys thought!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four! Onwards!

“The hell do you mean, ‘Billy is alive?’” 

Robin’s head shoots up to stare at him. “Billy? Billy Hargrove?” 

Steve waves a hand in her direction, pressing the phone closer to his ear to better hear Dustin. Robin sticks her tongue out at him. Steve gives her the finger. 

_ “He’s alive, Steve, what don’t you get?”  _

“No, hey, no. You do not get to call me and treat me like I’m an idiot for thinking your pulling my leg.” 

_ “Max is my friend, I wouldn’t lie about-“  _

“Billy Hargrove? Possessed Billy Hargrove?” Robin asks again. Steve turns his back to her. The telephone cord tangles around him. 

“Yeah, but Dustin, I saw him die. I went to his funeral!” 

_ “He’s in Indianapolis.”  _

“He’s  _ what?_” 

_ “Max talked to him in this coffee shop-“  _

“She  _ what?_” 

_ “- Steve, just shut up and listen to me!”  _

“Well, where is he now?” 

_“He disappeared, okay?! He didn’t remember her, and he thought she was with whoever took him. But El found him, through the Void, and then he found her, through the Void. We think someone’s holding him captured, that they’re torturing him or experimenting on him or something, but he’s already escaped once so he might do it again!”_

“Okay, wait. Let me get this straight. You want me and Robin to go out and look for Max’ dead brother, who’s got amnesia and won’t know who we are, and if we find him, you want us to bring him back to our place?” 

_ “Yes!”  _

“That’s kidnapping, dude.” 

_ “Steve!”  _

“Okay, okay. Calm down. There’s over seven thousand people living here, you do understand that?”

_ “Just keep your eyes open until El can get a clearer location, okay?”  _

“Fine. Yeah, sure. Okay. What the fuck man?” 

In the distance, Steve hears Ms. Henderson’s voice,  _ “Dusty-bun! Dinner!”  _

_ “I have to go, Steve. Expect us there on Saturday.” _

“What? Dustin, no, don’t hang up on-“ He hangs up. “Me,” Steve sighs. He untangles himself from the cord and puts the phone back, turning around to face Robin. 

She’s sitting at their tiny kitchen table, in their tiny kitchen, in their tiny Indianapolis flat, with its only advantage being that it’s close to school. Steve’s studying to become a teacher. He went to school, to learn how to do school. The irony is not lost on him. 

Robin’s staring at him, mouth slightly open. “Billy Hargrove who sacrificed himself to save his sister’s best friend, that Billy Hargrove? He’s alive?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I know. It’s insane. And apparently he’s got powers now, too.”

“What the fuck, Stevie?” 

He relays what Dustin told him, feeling a little bit like his head is going to explode. 

“Poor Max,” Robin says once he’s finished. She’s looking out the window, at the rain pouring down on the street below. 

“What?” 

“I mean... You know what she’s been like, since he died. It can’t be easy for her, learning he’s been alive somewhere, for three years, with someone... hurting him. And that he doesn’t remember her? Shit. I don’t know what I’d do.” 

—

Steve feels like he’s out here chasing ghosts. 

He’d said as much to Robin when he’d told her he’d had an idea when they met up for lunch, that he might take a while to get home. She’d laughed and pointed finger guns at him, saying, “Ghostbusters!” in a sing-song voice. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. The rain’s beating down, making him shiver in his coat. It’s just that Dustin wanted them to help, and Robin’s words about Max have been going round and round in his head like a tornado to the point where he almost couldn’t concentrate in class. And well, if they’re to be looking for Billy, then this is as good a place as any to start, isn’t it? Even if he feels a bit like a creep, lurking outside a high school. 

Billy’s from California, and to Steve’s knowledge, he’s only been in Indianapolis once. They had a game here once, and they slept in the school, sleeping bags spread out on the floor of the library. Billy might not remember that, because if he doesn’t remember Max then he definitely doesn’t remember Steve, he knew her long before he ever pushed himself up against Steve during basketball practice, but maybe there’s some part of his subconscious that will lead him here. 

He scans the crowd again, at the teenagers running towards the bus stop with their backpacks held over their heads, the men and women with colourful umbrellas. 

His eyes land on the only person in the vicinity not dressed for the weather. 

At the end of the street, staring up at the high school building, is a man. The homeless man Steve usually meets when he goes to buy groceries is better dressed than this guy. He’s dressed in a black sweater, doesn’t even have a coat on, no umbrella, the one thing he has is goddamn sunglasses even though the sky is grey and bleak. The hair, curly and blonde and reaching past his shoulders, is strangely dry, looks only to be a little damp. 

Steve’s walking before he’s even realised it. The man doesn’t notice him, doesn’t seem to be paying attention to what goes on around him. Steve reaches out a hand to turn him around to face him. 

And startles when his hand just goes through the man’s shoulder. 

“What the fuck?” The man is turning around, and Steve looks up at him, sees his face for the first time. “What the hell, Billy, oh my god!” He grabs at him again, and this time he’s solid, but not soaked like he should be. Steve lowers his voice. “Are you a ghost?”

Billy’s staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Do you- Do you know me? Do you know my sister?” 

“My hand went through you,” Steve says. 

Billy whips his arm out of Steve’s hold, turns on his heel and starts walking away. 

“No, wait! Wait!” Steve catches up to him, turns him around again to face him, keeps both of his hands on Billy’s shoulders. “I’m kidnapping you.” 

Behind the tinted glass, Steve sees Billy’s eyes widen in panic, feels him go rigid under his hold.  _ He’s fleeing captivity Steve, Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that_, a voice that sounds too much like Robin yells at him in his mind. “No, no, hey, sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I mean- I know Max! I know Max! I knew you, too! We played basketball together. And I- I know the brown haired girl!” 

Billy frowns at him. “The one in the dark?”

“The dark...? What dark...? Oh! You mean the Void! Yes, yes, I know her!”

“She was alive.”

“Yes? Why wouldn’t she be a-“

“Everyone’s dead in the Dark.” 

“Jesus. Okay. You sound like Robin when she’s on drugs. Russian drugs.” 

“You know Russian?” Billy asks, and goes on to say something in the language, words fast and well practiced. 

“No! What the fuck? Where the hell have you been, why do you know that?”

“Novels.”

“You’ve been reading novels in Russian?”

“Yes,” Billy says, as though that’s a normal thing to do. “I needed to learn, I was too weak-“

“Okay, you can tell me everything, but we need to get away from here first. Come on, I’m taking you back to my place.” He starts to turn around, before stopping himself, remembering what Dustin told him when Max first saw him. “If I start walking, you’ll follow me, right? You won’t disappear?”

Billy nods, looks a little amused. 

Steve decides to trust him, and turns to walk down to the bus station. The bus gets there right as they arrive, Steve looking over his shoulder to make sure Billy’s still there. He is. 

The bus lurches to a start, and Billy is thrown forward, Steve letting go of the pole he’d been holding on to, catching him before he can face-plant on the dirty bus floor. He’s aiming for grabbing Billy’s arms, but ends up getting his left arm but right side. 

His right arm’s gone. Steve hopes to god that is a result of the Mindflayer, and not that whoever has kept him captured decided to chop of an arm. 

Billy doesn’t seem that traumatised about it though, so at least Steve can hope it isn’t something recent. He meets Steve’s gaze and looks searchingly into them, saying a soft, “Thank you.” 

It’s still raining when they get to Steve’s stop, but Billy doesn’t seem at all affected by it. Steve still hasn’t let go of the thought that he’s a ghost. Or that Steve’s completely lost it, finally, has hallucinated this whole interaction. 

He leads Billy to his building, in through the door and up the cramped staircase, ending up outside his and Robin’s door where he fishes out his keys. 

“Robin!” he shouts, closing the door behind them and hanging his coat on the hook on the wall.

“I got us pizza!” she shouts back, coming out through the door to their kitchen and into the hallway with a slice in hand. “You’re just in time. How did your ghost chasing-  Oh my god. _Billy_.” 

She stops there, staring at him, Billy looking back, until her gaze then shifts to Steve and she reaches out, grabbing his shirt and pulling him with her into the kitchen, closing the door behind them and leaving Billy alone. 

“You found him? How the hell did you find him?” she hisses. 

“A hunch? Why are we whispering?”

“Did anyone follow you?”

Steve opens his mouth, realises nothing he says will please her, and closes it again. 

Robin’s eyes widen. “Steve. Tell me you checked no one was following you. Please.” 

“I didn’t think-“ 

“Oh my god! They might know where we live now! You’ve compromised us!”

“You sound like Murray-“ 

“Murray’s dating an enemy of the state and releases government secrets for fun, he’s right to be paranoid, and you’ve just brought an escapee to our home without checking if anyone was following-“ 

“They don’t know I’m here.” 

Robin whips around, Steve’s head following to see Billy standing in the doorway to the other end of the kitchen. Their kitchen is basically placed in a corridor, with one door to the hallway and one to their little living room. 

“How can you be sure?” Robin asks. 

_‘Because I killed them’_ ,  Steve is expecting him to say. Hoping, if he’s completely honest.

“Because I’m not really here. I’m... I’m Travelling. My body’s still with them.” 

“What?” 

Billy goes up to their table, sitting down in a kitchen chair. “It’s like... When I sleep, I can sometimes wake up somewhere else? Somewhere I’ve already been once, and then I can walk around there, interact with things and people, but I’m not... I’m not  _ really there_ _._ ” 

“Astral projection,” Robin breathes. “Shit.” 

“Well, where are you, then? Where are they keeping you?” 

“I don’t know,” Billy says, biting his lip, turning down to stare at the table. There’s a stain there from when they spilled raspberries that never really went away. “They pull a hood over my head every time they take me out of my room.”

They fall silent at that. There isn’t much to say; Steve doesn’t know how to help him. 

“You know, I’ve been through a lot of strange things, but I think this must take the cake,” he eventually says. 

Billy looks up at him, smiles a little. Then he takes in a deep breathe before speaking, “Where we friends? Before?” he asks, and Steve’s about to say _‘Well, no, not really’,_ but Robin answers before him, her voice gentle as she says, “We didn’t have time to get there.”

Billy nods, seems to accept that. “Where is my sister? I’d like to see her, again.” He’s speaking as though Steve actually kidnapped him, as though he needs their permission to talk to Max. “Apologise for running away from her,” he adds, smile a little crooked. A little bit more like the old Billy. The first glimpse Steve’s got of him, anyway.

Robin looks over at Steve. “They should’ve finished school by now, shouldn’t they? And we probably  _ should _ call them, anyway.” 

“I’ll try her place, first,” Steve says, going up to the phone on the kitchen counter, but right as he’s about to put in the numbers, Billy’s eyes widen and he gasps. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s gone. The chair where he sat stands up empty. 

Steve lowers the phone back down. “Did he just...?” He moves his hands away from his chest, uncurling them and spreading his fingers. “ _ Poof _ .” 

Robin’s staring at the place Billy occupied a second ago, eyes sad. “Someone woke him up,” she whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you guys liked it! If you did, please leave kudos! It would make my day if you’d comment and tell me what you thought!


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